


I See a Darkness

by Istealurfrenchfries



Series: I Spy [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is Kind of a Mess, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Blind!John AU, Car Accidents, Fatherly George Washington, Hurt/Comfort, Lams - Freeform, Law Student Alex, M/M, Med Student John, Medical Internship, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Washingdad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Istealurfrenchfries/pseuds/Istealurfrenchfries
Summary: "One thing at a time," Alex insisted again, and John reluctantly nodded."One thing at a time."---Alexander and John are happy and living in New York together.  A sudden event leaves John faced with the threat of disability, and the two must adjust.  Together.





	1. A Change in Pace

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a blind!John AU on Tumblr somewhere awhile back(I cannot, for the life of me, remember who started it) and I'm obsessed. This story is meant to be a prologue to a new series of mine in this universe.
> 
> Warning - This chapter has a somewhat graphic description of a minor character death, caused by a car accident. I figured that if schools can show graphic car accident videos in high school, then this story could remain rated teen. However, if anyone has a problem with this, feel free to let me know and I will change it.

When his alarm went off at five in the morning, John contemplated throwing the goddamn thing out the window.  He loved his internship at the hospital, but he was not having it today.  

The night before had been a mess of tangled limbs and forgotten clothes and desperation sex to celebrate Alexander’s coming home after a week long business trip with Washington.  They stayed up well into the early morning and...while John didn’t regret it, the three hours of sleep he had gotten wasn’t enough to make him feel even slightly rested.  He groaned into his pillow.  

Speaking of his partner, John hazily realized that he was alone in bed.  He sighed in disappointment.  Alex was an early riser, but even he didn’t get up this early, and especially not after a business trip.  He hated business trips.  He complained that they were exhausting, and they were often one of the few occasions where he allowed himself to sleep in the day after.  So the fact that he wasn’t in bed both annoyed and mildly alarmed John.  He rolled out of bed and groped around on the floor for the pair of boxers he’d tossed there the night before. He found Alex’s jeans, a belt, and his own shirt before finally locating the underwear.  

“Baby?” he called out as he walked out into their tiny living room, rubbing his eyes.  The TV wasn’t on and the room dark, but he knew his boyfriend hadn’t gone to randomly sleep on the sofa in the middle of the night.   He sighed and checked their makeshift study - Alex was usually cooped up there.  But John found nothing.  

“What the hell, Alex?” he muttered.

He eventually found him in the kitchen.  Alex was sitting at the island, clad in sweatpants and some short sleeved shirt he’d stolen from John.  His laptop was set up in front of him, and he typed furiously, but his eyes were a bit glazed and unfocused.  John frowned from the doorway.

“Alex, sweetheart?” he called out softly and walked up behind him.  It wasn’t until he touched his back that Alex jerked in surprise.  He breathed raggedly.

“Sorry,” he muttered, but John only shook his head.  He understood now.

“Bad dream?”

He nodded.  John leaned down to press a kiss to his temple, relieved when he didn’t flinch away this time.  

“Which one?” He sat down in the chair next to him and grasped his hand.  Alex reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the laptop screen to look at John.  He bit his lip, but John was patient.  Whatever irritation he’d been harboring dissipated as he watched his boyfriend try to gather his thoughts.  Alex had been doing so well with talking about everything that made him anxious lately.  That alone was quite a feat, and John refused to scare him back into silence just because he was tired and grouchy.  

“The..the one about my father leaving,” Alex whispered, trying to shift his eyes away, but John wouldn’t let him.  

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because you have to go to work,” Alex tutted like it was so stupidly obvious why he didn’t wake him up.  “You’re already running on just a few hours of sleep, and you work your ass off all day anyway.  I don’t want to make it worse because I’m stupid and have pathetic dreams and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” John cut him off.  He brought Alex’s hand up to kiss his knuckles.  “Stop, baby.  You’re not stupid, you know you’re not.  If you have a nightmare, you can wake me.”  He paused, searching Alexander’s face for a moment.  “How many did you have on your trip?” he asked softly.  Alex shuddered.  On several occasions, he’d admitted to having more night terrors when he was alone.

“It doesn’t matter,” he avoided the question.  “I’m a grown man, I shouldn’t be whining over nightmares.”

“Baby…”

“Look,” he gritted his teeth, but his tenseness wasn’t directed at John, “you have to get ready and I have to be at the firm by eight.”  His anxiety was acting up again and they both knew it, but John knew when to back off.  He gave him a smile, and was relieved when he received a small(albeit hesitant) one in return.

“Alright, but I’m making us breakfast, and you’re going to eat some of it.  I’ll tie you up and force feed you if I have to.”  Alex chuckled, and John considered it a victory.  

* * *

 

Days as a surgical intern did not relent based on the amount of sleep one managed to get.  Patients still needed to be seen, quotas still needed to be filled, and work still needed to be done.  John thrived off the fast pace, even if he was running on just a few sparse hours of rest.  It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before, of course.  If he’d learned anything from his boyfriend, it was that the human body could run off of even less sleep than he’d originally thought.  

During the mid-morning, John got to assist in a craniotomy for an epidural hematoma patient.  He’d gotten to remove the bone flap.  He’d tell Alex all about it later, and then Alex would gloat that he was smarter than all the other interns.  John wouldn’t admit it, but he secretly loved it when Alex was so loudly proud of him.   Neurology wasn’t John’s interest though - he desperately wanted to specialize in cardiology.  There was just something about the heart that captured his rapt attention.  He’d discussed it with Alexander on multiple occasions, and while his boyfriend didn’t share his love for anatomy and surgery(he was rather queasy around the subject, actually), he’d always been supportive.  

John sat down heavily at a table during his lunch break.  Without particularly thinking about it, he pulled out his phone and called Alex.  This was habit for them.  He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, love,” Alex sounded a little strained over the phone, but John didn’t hear any traces of the panic from this morning.  

“Hey, Alex.”  

“I was going to try to get away and come visit you for lunch, but fucking Jefferson requested a meeting and I didn’t have time,” Alex huffed.  John smiled.

“That’s alright, sweetheart.  You feeling any better from earlier?” John asked.  He knew Alex didn’t like talking about these things when he was at the firm, but still.  He wanted to be sure that he was okay.  Alex actually chuckled.  

“Yeah, I am,” Alex murmured over the phone, and he actually sounded sincere.  John knew how to tell, even over the phone. “Sorry for being a dick this morning.”  

John shook his head, then remembered that his boyfriend wasn’t there to see him.

“You were anxious.  It’s okay,” he reassured him, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better now.  Now you can devote _all_ your attention to ridiculing your co-worker,” he teased. Alexander’s irritated huff floated over the line.

“Jefferson is such a fucking asshole,” he hissed, and John tried to contain his amusement.  He couldn’t help it, Alex was endearing when he went on tirades about people, usually Jefferson.  Well, sometimes he wasn’t - sometimes he was a little scary when he got truly angry.  Sometimes John, Washington, or Angelica had to intervene before he went too far, but most of the time it was endearing.  

“As you have informed me on many occasions,” he chuckled.  Alex took a big breath and John just knew that he was about to go into a full on rant.  Unfortunately, neither of their lunch breaks were long enough for that.  He cut in quickly, “You can tell me all about how much of an absolute dick he is when we both get home, hm?”  

“Fine,” Alex sighed and relented. John saw opportunity.

“How about dinner tonight?  It’s been awhile since we’ve had a proper date,” he changed the subject with a hopeful voice.  Even before Alex’s business trip, they hadn’t gone out in a few weeks.  They were both busy, or too tired, or their schedules just didn’t line up for a date to work.  But tonight, they’d both get to go home at a normal hour.  He missed seeing his boyfriend, and going out to dinner would mean that he’d actually eat something substantial.  “It could make up for the missed lunch.  We could go to that cajun place you like.”

John’s hopes fell flat, however, at the moment of silence from the other end of the line.  He heard a breath of hesitance and braced himself for the rejection.

“I don’t know, John.  I think it’s gonna be a late one tonight,” Alex muttered.  The sound of rustling paper filtered through the phone.  “I promised Washington that I’d have this document done, and then I’ve got a paper due for my Criminal Law Procedure class and-”

“It’s fine, Alex,” John cut him off, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“I’m sorry.”  He sounded genuine.

“I get it.  I’ll see you later tonight, then?” Hopefully Alex wouldn’t pull an allnighter at the firm itself.  It didn’t happen often, but he lost track of time easily if someone didn’t remind him.

“Of course.  I love you.”  

“I love you too,” John murmured and reluctantly hung up.  He tossed his phone down on the table with more force than what was probably necessary, blowing out another hard sigh.  He knew that his boyfriend was busy, but he wished that Alex would remember about _them_ once in awhile.  John supposed that he didn’t have room to be pissed though.  It wasn’t Alex’s fault that he was busy.  They were both busy.

“Yo, Laurens!” John jerked his head up at the call of his name, though he already knew who it was.  A burly man with light skin and dark cropped hair tossed his bag onto the lunch table, along with his tray.  

“Gabriel,” John greeted, a ghost of a smile upturning his lips.  He picked at his sandwich.

“Woah, what’s with the stick up your ass?” Gabriel grinned, “Usually you’re gloating about being on an angioplasty or something by now.  What is it?  Boy problems?”  John turned red and shoved at his shoulder.  

“Just tired,” he muttered and checked his phone uselessly, as if Alex had somehow changed his mind and decided to go through with dinner after all.  He wasn’t surprised when he found no such evidence.

“What’re you pestering John for?” A young woman sat down at the other side of John.  He smiled at Martha.  She’d always been pretty.  Tall, olive toned skin, and long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.  He’d known Martha since grade school, all the way in South Carolina.  She was part of the reason he’d moved to New York at all, encouraging him to move with her to escape his father and pursue a medical career.  And that was fine, because then he met Alex too.

Everyone in South Carolina had believed them to be in a relationship.  Perhaps they would have been if not for John feeling no attraction toward girls.  

“What?  I’m trying to solve a mystery here, Martha,” Gabriel feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest.  John fought the urge to throw his spoon at him.  “He says he’s tired.”

“That’s because I am tired.”

“Didn’t your boy get back yesterday?  You haven’t shut up about it all week,” she pointed out, balancing lettuce leaves and an olive on her fork.  

“Mm-hm,” John hummed, already annoyed at where the conversation was going.

“So what?  You had wild sex all night?  Is that it?” It was Gabriel again.  The man had no shame, but at least he kept his voice semi-low for that part.  John’s face turned a deeper shade of crimson this time and his shoulders went up toward his ears.  He couldn’t argue, because it was true, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. He gritted his teeth.

“Shut. Up.”

Martha seemed to finally have pity on him and spoke up before their friend could inflict any more damage.

“So, my roommate is having a boy over tonight, and believe me when I say that I don’t want to be there for any part of it,” she smiled, “Dinner after work, anyone?”

Gabriel gave an enthusiastic nod and they both turned toward John.  He glanced one last time at his phone, sighed, and then nodded.  

The rest of the day passed in much the same fashion as the first half, although there were no more major surgeries that he got to sit in on.  Though that was probably for the best, as he was sluggish on his feet by the end of it.  Maybe he was coming down with a cold or something, because he felt far more drained than just a night of no sleep.

Still, he and Martha piled into Gabriel’s car after their shifts were over.  Gabriel was the only one of them who insisted on driving to work everyday, despite the fact that New York traffic was slow and irritating.

Martha beat him to the front passenger seat, but he didn’t mind too much.  He just tossed his bag into the backseat and crawled in himself.  John was pretty sure that they’d decided on pizza, but wasn’t actually paying a whole lot of attention.  

As soon as they left the parking lot, Martha launched into a passionate rant about one of the nurses at the hospital and how she didn’t do her job correctly.  Gabriel joined in, and while John would have normally found the whole conversation amusing, he settled back against the seat and fell into silence now.

“You okay back there, Laurens?” Gabriel’s voice floated toward him, sounding amused, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you hated all of us with the way you’re acting.”  

“Just tired, man,” John’s returning smile was real, even if it was a bit strained.  He liked his friends and was usually much more enthusiastic about going out anywhere that wasn’t the emergency room with them.  However, he really was tired and a headache was starting to make itself known behind his eyes. Perhaps just going home instead of out to dinner would have been a better idea.  

John leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.  The conversation around him dulled into quiet murmurs as his mind drifted away.  

He thought about Alex, and wondered how he was doing, if his anxiety and nerves had made a return from that morning, how much Jefferson had aggravated him.  Maybe John would pick up the ingredients to make them dinner later in the week. Alex would never remember to eat on his own, but if John personally made him a meal, he’d feel too guilty not to eat it.  Sure, perhaps he was taking advantage of his boyfriend’s tendencies, but he needed Alex to eat more often.  Plus, he planned on making the rikkita beef that Alex liked so much.  The dish had apparently been something that he’d eaten as a child, and although memories of the island generally made Alex’s anxiety worse, he’d openly admitted to missing the food he used to eat on Nevis.  John didn’t particularly care for the spice that much himself, but that didn’t matter.

The smooth sound of the car’s tires on the highway started to lull John into a doze.  Unlike Alex, who fidgeted through car rides and complained about the wasted time, he’d always found them to be soothing when he wasn’t the one driving.   He hated to be the boring friend right now, falling asleep on the way to dinner, but nobody complained.  They were interns - falling asleep literally anywhere was somewhat of a talent for them during long shifts.  John trusted that someone would wake him up when they got there.

As it turned out, they wouldn’t need to wake him up.  They would never make it to their destination.

It wasn’t even the crash that he registered first.  It wasn’t the way that the door directly next to him suddenly caved in.  It wasn’t the glass shattering in his face.  It wasn’t the way that the vehicle swerved dangerously to the right.  He didn’t even feel the hot stinging pain in his eyes, or the way that his entire left side felt like it had been crushed.  

It was the terrified scream that came from Martha, and the muttered curse from Gabriel.  He noticed the sound of his friend’s body hitting the steering wheel with a broken thud before he ever even understood what was happening.  For several horrible moments, his world consisted of only screaming and shouting.  John didn’t even realize that quite a few of those screams were coming from him.  He didn’t notice his throat rapidly growing raw from those guttural noises of terror.

“Fuck!”

Then the world was tilting and spinning too, and the shrill sound of shredding metal filled the air.  Something hard and sharp hit John in the face, but he didn’t have the time to think about its impact.  The other side of the car buckled in now too, and he just managed to see Gabriel’s arm twist in a way that surely meant it was broken.  With the next tilt, his own head was thrown back against the seat and pinned in a way that made breathing rather difficult.  Not that he was doing much breathing anyway.  

_Why won’t it stop?_

Finally, everything stilled.  Gabriel’s car made one last groaning tilt and then ceased to move completely.  There was a moment of complete silence, the eye of the hurricane, before the realization of what had just happened hit.  

Everything felt wrong.  His limbs were twisted in ways that weren’t natural, his clothes were torn and damp with something sticky and warm.  His neck was bent in a way that it should definitely not be bent.  Were they upside down?  He couldn’t tell.  He was too dizzy.

And then the _pain._  He finally felt the pain.  John’s entire body screamed with discomfort.  His face throbbed and burned, and he vaguely recalled the glass that shattered in his face.  Blood rolled _up_ his temple.  So they were upside down, then.  His hip and right leg were pinned under a mass of crumpled metal.  He couldn’t feel anything below his knee, but the pain in his thigh was excruciating.  John tried to move his head, but the muscles in his neck immediately seized up and he let out a garbled whimper in agony.   If he were able to, he’d have sobbed.  The smell of blood in the car, which wouldn’t have fazed him on a normal day, made him so nauseous he thought he was definitely going to be sick.

_I want Alex._

“John, you alright?” That was...Gabriel?  Maybe?  Yes, it had to be Gabriel.  His voice was strong, if a little shaky, so maybe he’d made it out okay.  “John!”  

John groaned and coughed in response.  His vision was blurred and a black curtain clouded it.  He tried to blink to clear his vision, but the movement sent spikes of hot agony through his head.  He didn’t have the capacity at the moment to even try to think of the medical reasons behind the pain.  He moaned again and closed his eyes.  Gabriel seemed satisfied enough with that.

“Right, okay,” Gabriel’s voice wasn’t directed at him anymore.  “Marth- oh _god_ ,” he broke off with something akin to a shriek.  It was a disturbing sound to come from someone like Gabriel, and even in his own sluggish state, John was alarmed.  He forced himself to open his eyes and fucking _see._

He immediately wished that he hadn’t.

Martha’s body was mangled beyond recognition.  Her limbs were crushed.  Her long black hair was tangled and ripped out in several chunks.  Her shoulders bowed inward.  Her neck was bent so far that it was clearly broken.  Her face was...Martha was dead. His best friend.

John gagged and vomited right there in the car.  Then the black was taking over his vision completely, and he let it.  He didn’t want to be awake anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it!
> 
> This story will be medical heavy. I do not claim to have a degree in the medical field, I just enjoy researching things. So, if anyone else does actually know more about these things than I do, please let me know if you see something seriously wrong or improbable. Thank you!
> 
> Unashamed tumblr plug -- http://istealurfrenchfries.tumblr.com/


	2. Head Full of Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alexander, when is the last time you ate something?”
> 
> “Mm.”
> 
> “Or slept?”
> 
> A shrug.
> 
> “Or showered?”
> 
> Nothing. A sigh.
> 
> “Are you even listening?”

Alexander was slouched at his desk typing up a draft for the speech that Washington was to make the following week.  It was hitting nine at night, but he didn’t see an end in sight in his work.  This wasn’t unusual for him, but he did feel a bit bad for staying late when he’d already been gone on a week long business trip and he knew John would want him home.  Nevertheless, it felt more than good to write paragraph after paragraph in his own office back home in New York.  Of course, experiencing Jefferson and his irate attitude wasn’t refreshing, but if anything, Alex was up to the challenge.  A week without arguing with Jefferson(and winning) was a week wasted.  Or something like that.

His fingers flew over his laptop keys in a rapid pattern.  He had a desktop here at work, but still preferred to use the personal laptop.  He didn’t notice Washington standing in the doorway of his office.  

“Hamilton.”

“Yes, sir?” Alex murmured reflexively, but didn’t look up just yet.  He glanced between his notes and the open document in front of him.  He really needed to get a new laptop soon anyway - the keys were wearing out from his continuous use of it.  Not only was the paint chipping away, but one of his shift keys was starting to stick-

“Alexander.”

That made Alex pause, fingers stilling.  Washington only ever called him by his first name outside of the firm.  

“..Sir?” Alex finally looked up, and what he saw alarmed him.  Washington’s face was hesitant and grim, a look that he’d never seen on the man.  Not like this. Washington always exuded confidence. “Sir?” he asked again, a hint of anxiousness seeping into his voice.  He ordinarily kept an extra tight seal on his anxiety and nerves at the firm.  The last thing he ever needed was for Jefferson to find something against him.  He’d had years of experience with that particular skill.  But Washington’s entire demeanor put him on edge.  Something had obviously happened.  Something personal. “Washington, sir, you n-”

“It’s John,” he cut him off.  For a moment, Alex was wholly confused.  Why would Washington have news about John?  Sure, the Washingtons were family to them, but still.  “The hospital couldn’t get ahold of you, so they called the central office.”  Wait, hospital?  John was interning at the hospital, but why would they need to call him?  Why wouldn’t John just call him if he needed something?

Alex frowned, digging through his bag and finding his phone.  It had been turned off.  He never turned his phone off, but they’d had a meeting earlier when he hadn’t wanted to risk it making noise.  A familiar sense of panic crawled up his throat.  He tried to breathe.

“I don’t...I don’t understand.  What happened?” he asked tensely.  Washington didn’t say anything.  This wasn’t right.  Washington had never been this hesitant to speak his mind about anything, and Alex had known him for nearly the entirety of the time he’d lived in America.  He stood from his desk.  “What happened?”

“Son-” his boss started, and Alex didn’t even get annoyed at the name like he usually did in a work setting.  This had stopped being a work setting the moment Washington had called him  by his first name.  Right now, Washington was the man who had unofficially adopted him into his family as a teenager, and the man who was bringing bad news to Alexander.

“What?” Alex tried not to let the irritation mix into his voice as well.  

“John’s been in a car accident.” he finally deadpanned.  Alex stopped breathing for a moment.  

Car accidents were common, ridiculously common. They could either be extremely minor or fatal.  Washington’s words gave him nothing.  Then again, the hospital wouldn’t likely be trying to contact him if it wasn’t serious.    
“How bad?” Alex was already slamming his laptop shut and tossing his things into his messenger bag.  He heard a few of the keys snap and break.

“Son-” Washington raised a hand like he wanted to offer some sort of condolence, but Alexander cut him off with a glare.

“How _bad_?” he clenched his jaw.  What if John was seriously hurt?  What if he was so hurt that they couldn’t fix him?  What if his whole life was altered?  What if he couldn’t remember Alex?

_What if John was dead?_

Alex felt so physically sick with that thought that he nearly doubled over.  He felt a large hand grip him by the elbow and keep him upright.  Washington must have seen his faintness.  

“I got them to tell me that he’s in surgery, but that’s it.  Patient confidentiality and all that,” he said.  For a moment, Alex was relieved.  Surgery meant that John was alive.  Surgery meant that the crash hadn’t killed him.  

His relief quickly morphed right back into panic.  Surgery also meant that John could be dying.  

“I have to get-” Alex muttered, trying again to center himself.  His chest felt tight, but he refused to let himself have an attack right now. This wasn’t about him.  He hoisted his bag over his shoulder.  “I need to get to the hospital.”  Work didn’t seem so important anymore.

“I know,” Washington said, using that voice between stern and comforting parental that he somehow did.  He let go of Alex’s arm, but was clearly leading him as they walked out of the room.  “I’ll give you a ride.  I don’t imagine that you can handle public transportation right now.”  His tone left no room for argument, but for once, Alex didn’t argue.  That was probably for the best.

And so an hour later, Alex sat in a hard plastic chair in the waiting room of the hospital, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists.  George had dropped him off and offered to stay, but Alex was against the idea and sent him home.  His bag was slung haphazardly on the chair next to him.  It was funny how those things became unimportant when tragedy struck.  His friends weren’t here yet, but he’d texted them.  Well, sort of.  He was usually a stickler for perfect grammar even when texting, but he wasn’t sure how much sense he’d made when informing that John had been hurt.  He wasn’t sure of a whole lot right now.

John wasn’t out of surgery yet, a doctor had told him.  They wouldn’t tell him much of anything to do with John’s health, really.  The details of the crash were on the news, however, and after looking it up on his phone, Alexander immediately felt sick all over again.  They were scarce, but were enough to give him an idea.  Another vehicle had sideswiped them and knocked the vehicle off the road.  There was a picture put up by the police that positively nauseated Alex.  The thought of his boyfriend having been stuck in that lump of crumpled metal was nauseating.  One of the passengers - no, one of John’s _friends_ , one of his _best friends_ \- had died upon impact.  

Alex knew that John occasionally went out with the other interns at the hospital, but he’d never imagined _this_ happening.  And all the while, he’d been holed up in his office with his phone turned off, indulgently working like the selfish prick he was.  

John had wanted him to come home early that night, he’d told him that.  Washington had been more than willing to give him an evening off, even.  And yet, Alexander had been stubborn and refused to leave.  He hadn’t done any real writing over the week long business trip and had lost himself in the feel of working again.  If he’d just listened for once, if he hadn’t been a shitty, selfish boyfriend, this wouldn’t have happened.  John would have come home rather than going out, and he wouldn’t have gotten into a car accident.  He wouldn’t be in surgery right now.  Hell, if Alex had at least turned his phone on like a normal person, he wouldn’t have had to find out from George fucking Washington.  He could have at least been there and-

“Alex!”

The shout brought the writer in question out of his self deprecating stupor.  He didn’t even have time to look  up before Lafayette and Hercules were standing in front of him.  He swallowed.  

“We got the texts,” Lafayette started, but he looked puzzled.  They were both out of breath, panicked just like he was.  Except they didn’t know that all this was Alex’s fault, “You didn’t make much sense.  What happened?”

A pause.  Alex glanced between the two other men.  His movements were sluggish.  He leaned forward on his knees until he was doubled over in the chair.

“Car..” he swallowed, “-car accident.  John was in a car accident.  I don’t know what happened to the people he was with.”   _And it’s my fault._  “He’s in surgery.  They won’t tell me anything _important_ ,” he muttered, gritting his teeth and glaring at the polished floor.  His chest was getting tighter and tighter until breathing started to become labored.  That was fine though - he didn’t need to breathe.  John probably didn’t get to breathe much when he was hit by a fucking car, so why did Alex deserve to breathe?  He certainly didn’t want to.  He wanted to stop breathing, and stop moving, and stop everything.  He wanted to disappear, because his Laurens was hurt and possibly dying and it was _his fault_.  

“Come on, man, you’ve got to breathe.” Alex didn’t realize that he was nearing a full blown attack until he felt large hands pulling him back upright.  It was Herc’s voice, but he just shook his head fervently.  

“My fault,” he choked out, and there it was.  Alex had never been good at keeping what was really bothering him to himself.    Of course, John being hurt at all bothered him, but the fact that he could have done something about it made his skin crawl and his eyes sting.  

“What?  Were you driving?” was Herc’s slow question, then he shook his head as he answered his own question, “No, you’re not hurt, of course you weren’t driving.  You're not exactly giving us much to go off of here, Alex”

“I..I didn’t come home,” Alex tried to explain, but found that he didn’t have the words beyond that, which was hilarious, because his entire career was built around how good he was with words. Except it wasn’t hilarious at all.  It was pathetic and useless and he hated it. “I didn’t, I..”

“Alright, alright, breathe,” Herc ordered, and if Alex had had the capacity at the moment to look, he would see the both of his friends with concern plastered on their faces.  They knew of his anxious tendencies, but Alex was spiraling in much too fast of a pace.  

But then it didn’t matter, because a doctor was appearing at the doorway and calling Alex’s last name.  He finally took a deep breath and pulled himself together enough to walk across the room.  She said words like _lacerated kidney_ and _vocal cord paralysis_ and _internal swelling._  Alexander might’ve understood more fully at another time, but all he could think about was John being hurt.  He nodded dumbly, feeling a cold numbness spread over him.  

Lafayette and Herc eventually drew him back into his uncomfortable chair in the corner of the waiting room to prepare for a long night of waiting.  

The hours slipped by, and he didn't notice when he slumped over and closed his eyes.

* * *

 

Alexander was shaken awake by Hercules.  He almost griped at the other men to let him sleep a little more, but the uncomfortable position he was curled up reminded him of where he was.  That he was in a hospital and not in his apartment. That he was curled up in a plastic chair and wasn’t in bed with his boyfriend.  He’d fallen into a distressed sleep on Lafayette’s shoulder.

“John’s out of surgery.  They’re letting us see him for a bit.  Angelica and Peggy can’t get down here tonight, and Eliza is stuck at the orphanage,” he said, and Alex slowly dragged himself up.  He nodded, then Herc’s words sunk in.  If John was out of surgery, then he was alive. Alex jolted up to his feet and nodded again, with much more exuberance this time.  

He went in first.  The doctor said something about John not being awake, but Alex didn’t care.  

The first thing that met his eyes were the bruises.  His arms and what was visible of his boyfriend’s face were covered in black and purple marks and cuts.  His frizzy hair was caked into a dark brown with blood. Besides the initial glance, however, John looked much...cleaner than Alexander had anticipated.  He’d made it worse in his head.  Where he had been unable to fight off the mental images of soaked gauze and open wounds, John was swathed in bandages that were so white it made his eyes hurt.  His eyes were covered with sterile gauze and medical tape, and Alex frowned.  He wanted to see his face better.  He swallowed and slowly pulled up a chair to the bedside.  

“John..” Alex breathed.  He’d never understood before why people spoke to their unconscious relatives and spouses when they were in the hospital.  It was ridiculous, and it wasn’t as if they could actually understand anything spoken to them.  Now he understood. “I’m sorry.”  Too afraid of holding his hand and jostling the IV in his arm, he settled for laying his palm over John’s.  His skin was warm.  That was..that was good.  “You need to wake up for me, alright?  Please,” his voice broke, but his words were so soft that no one else could possibly hear him.

“Mr. Hamilton.”  Alex looked up at the voice of the doctor, who was standing in the doorway.  “The surgery to repair Mr. Laurens’...John’s kidney did go well”  Her face was troubled.  Alex had nearly forgotten that these people were John’s peers.  They knew him on a personal level too.  He nodded.  She continued, “However, we can’t guarantee what his recovery will be like, taking other injuries into account.  The trauma of the past twelve hours has caused him to fall into a coma.”

Alex closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe.  An unmedicated coma.  John may never wake up again.  

“I see.”

“We have high hopes, Mr. Hamilton.  We’ll keep monitoring his progress,” she paused, as if considering what to tell him, then slowly added, “You should also know, the accident caused a retinal detachment in both eyes, but his lacerated kidney and swelling took priority tonight. We don’t know how severe it is quite yet.  He will need to have another surgery in the future.”

“..Meaning?” For as intelligent as Alexander Hamilton was with words and the law, he had no idea what she was talking about.  If John were awake, he’d explain it to him.  His voice would lift with interest, and he’d probably ramble on and on about the different symptoms and surgical techniques and Alex would never consider stopping him.  

“We’ll discuss it more when and if he wakes up.  This is a conversation that John should be part of.”   _If he wakes up._  He nearly scowled at the doctor, but reminded himself that John wouldn’t want that.  “Now, I’m afraid your time is up for now.  We don’t want too many people in the room just yet, and John has a few other people here to visit, if I’m not mistaken?”  

He did scowl now, but rose to his feet without too much of a fuss.  Lafayette and Hercules both deserved a chance to see him, after all.  

As he left, Alex’s stomach knotted with worry.   _Retinal detachment?_

* * *

 

It had been a week.  It had been a week since John Laurens had been involved in a car accident.  It had been a week since he was rushed to the very same hospital that he interned in.  It had been a week since he was last conscious.  It had been a week of other interns and nurses flitting into the room nonstop.  It had also been a week since Alexander Hamilton had had any sort of mental stability.  

Well, that wasn’t quite right.  He was sort of stable, just not… functional.  Hercules and Lafayette made sure that he ate sometimes, but that was no different to the usual.  Angelica tried to have a conversation with him, but had given up after the third try. Washington had been lenient about him missing work, at least, since Alex rarely ever missed work.  Besides, after the first two days of shock, Alex had thrown himself back into his work from his laptop in the hospital room.  The difference was that where he normally worked because he enjoyed and gained fulfillment from it, he now worked to keep merely his mind occupied.

“Alexander, when is the last time you ate something?”

“Mm.”

“Or slept?”

A shrug.

“Or showered?”

Nothing.  A sigh.

“Are you even listening?”  

The tone was sharp and hard and finally pulled Alex out of his head enough to look up.  Truth be told, he hadn’t been listening at all.  He’d assumed that it was just Herc or Laf trying to get him to talk again, but it was Washington standing on the other side of John’s bed.  He blinked.

“Sir, I..I already sent you the document you requested,” was Alexander’s slow reply.  He closed his laptop, broken keys and all, and set it to the side.  

“I’m not ‘sir’ right now, son,” Washington replied, “You know why I’m here, and it’s not for work.”  Alex sighed.  

“I’m not going home.  Not while he’s here,” he muttered.  His voice was hoarse from disuse.  When was the last time he’d spoken?

“Martha wants you to come back to us.  Just for awhile.”  Alex frowned.

After coming to America as a young teenager, Alex had struggled on the streets a year.  His previous hopes of college and a higher education had been crushed when he had to hold a full time, meaningless job just to stay afloat.  His lifelong dream of finding opportunity in the United States had seemed to be one huge waste.  

Alex wouldn’t even be alive right now if Senator George Washington hadn’t taken him in after finding the boy half dead in the streets during the winter.  Later, George would come to find out that the boy was the same Alexander Hamilton who had managed to get a few articles published in the newspaper, all about the crisis of orphaned children and the poor childcare laws in the States.  He’d refused to let him go back to the streets after that, and he and his wife had provided a home while Alex went through college on a rather impressive scholarship.

Alex would always be grateful for that, grateful for the opportunities it had brought him, but he would not be taken that far away now.  John was his priority.

“I’m not a child anymore,” he bit back as he stood up on unsteady feet, voice coming out far more spiteful than either of them had anticipated.  An awkward silence passed between them, and he pointedly did not watch as George’s jaw set.

“Really?  Because you’re acting like one.  Forgetting to sleep and eat.  I know you’re bad about it on a regular basis, but this is bordering on pathetic” the older man said.

Alex wasn’t expecting to flinch as hard as he did.  His chest ached, and God, he was tired.  He saw George pause.  Saw him take in the mess of a man in front of him.  Alex looked away, trying to fight the shame that turned his cheeks red.  He was normally a flame that no insult could put out, but he was strung out so far past his limit.

“Alex-”

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” he cut him off sharply.  He sucked in a breath, but it only made his lungs feel even more constricted, like they were wrapped in barbed wire and every breath cut deeper.  “He hasn’t woken up in a week.  The nurses keep telling me to stay hopeful, but they’ve stopped smiling when they say it,” his words were clipped and strained.  His eyes wandered to John’s still form on the bed, tubes and needles entering him where they shouldn’t.  Alex’s vision blurred and he blinked rapidly.  He was speaking quick now, “His other friend came in yesterday. Gabriel something.  He kept apologizing and saying that John would pull through.  But he won’t.  He’s not going to wake up because he’s broken and it’s my fucking fault-”

“Alexander, _breathe_ ,” George was beside him now, pushing him back into his chair.  He crouched down in front of Alex.  It made Alex feel incredibly childish, but he was in no position to fight it. “You have to breathe, son.”  Alex managed a meek nod and focused his entire being on not breaking down now.   “Now, why on earth would this be your fault?”

“I..I didn’t come home,” he said the same thing he’d said multiple times to Hercules and Lafayette and Eliza.  No one understood.  “He wanted me to come home and I didn’t. If I’d just _come home,_ he wouldn’t have gone out with his friends.  And now one of them is dead,” he spiraled out again.  Alex tried to scoff, but it came out as a tearless sob.  “I’ve killed someone, and now he’s going to die because of me.”

“Alex, you haven’t killed anyone.  You are not the reason that your boyfriend and his co-workers got into a car accident,” George said slowly.  He’d witnessed this kind of spiralling guilt from Alex before, but when he was younger.  “The reason is because of an intoxicated driver who hit them.  It was never you.”  

His words fell on deaf ears, but Alex calmed down slightly.  He dragged in a shaky, ragged breath.  It was quiet for a few minutes.  George gripped Alexander by the elbows to keep him from slumping over, and Alex focused on breathing.  

“I miss John,” he finally whispered.  Alex missed his boyfriend.  He missed waking up with him in the mornings, even if it was only him waking up and trying to get ready without waking John.  He missed John yelling at him to go to bed before two in the morning.  He missed having sex.  He missed John’s meals that he made simply to guilt Alex into eating.  He missed him.  Alex sighed, sitting up.  

“Fine, I’ll go home.  To _my_ apartment.  Just for the night,” he said, shoulders drawn in clear defeat.  As much as he liked the home that the Washingtons had provided for him for years, it would create more anxiety than comfort.  To his luck, George didn’t try to convince him otherwise.  

The two men stood up and Alex slowly gathered his bag and laptop with the idea that he might get some work done that night, at least.  The headache that he’d been suppressing since the night of the accident returned with a throbbing amplitude and made him queasy, but he didn’t care.  

He couldn’t remember when the last time he’d slept was.  Alex’s whole body ached as he moved.  Hospital chairs weren’t meant for spending days in, which was really ironic, considering how many people did just that.  He’d laugh about the fact if he weren’t living it.

It was when he was walking toward the door that he heard it.  The sound of choking came from the bed.  Both men turned toward it, and saw John’s chest heaving rapidly - the noise came from him, as he gagged around the intubation tube.  Alex darted around the bed to slam the call button for a nurse, too scared that this was his boyfriend struggling through his last breaths.

 Less than half a minute later, a man and a woman, both clad in hospital scrubs, came in.  Immediately, they worked on safely pulling the tube out.  Alex’s eyes were wide with panic, but the female nurse waved his reaction off.  

“Choking means he’s breathing on his own,” she informed.  Once the plastic was out, the horrible sound stopped, and he watched as John’s chest rose and fell in big breaths before evening out.

He couldn’t help himself from wrapping his hand around John’s and squeezing softly.  To his utter disbelief, he felt his hand being squeezed back.  It wasn’t just an involuntary movement either.  Alex’s breath hitched and something akin to a relieved sob left his throat.

John was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I'm really not a doctor and probably have no business writing about medical traumas, but y'know.
> 
> http://istealurfrenchfries.tumblr.com/


	3. Listen to my Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “High hopes for what?” Alex spoke up. He glanced at John’s face, then back down to his hand. “What is the alternative?” He reminded himself to breathe.
> 
> John wasn’t dying. John was here and warm and very much alive. John wouldn’t leave him alone.
> 
> “Blindness,” John murmured quietly.

“You..you’re..” Alex spluttered after the nurses took John’s vitals and left.  John’s face was still covered, but God, he was awake.  John, however, shifted uncomfortably.

“Why can’t I see?” John’s voice was horribly hoarse and painful sounding, but that didn’t seem to be stopping him any.  “A-Alex?  Was that you?  I...where's Alex?”  Alex felt the tears coming.  His vision became blurry and everything smudged.  He sat down and bowed his head against John’s hand.  

“Yeah, it’s me,” he muttered thickly, “It’s just a bandage, baby.  Your eyes are injured.”  He hoped that John wouldn’t ask anymore about that, because he didn’t have the answers.  John’s hand reached out until he was cupping Alex’s face - no, not cupping, feeling.  His fingers ran over the contours of his face.  Over his brows, down his nose, across his lips, finally settling on his cheek.  

“Mm..Missed you,” John mumbled, and Alex choked on a sob.  He covered his hand with his own, and turned his face to kiss John’s palm.

“I missed you too,” he croaked out. “You can’t do that to me again.  You can’t go almost dying on me.”

“Didn’t mean to.” John’s voice grew breathy, like he was having a hard time dragging in air.  Alex shushed him.  They’d discuss everything later.  

“Hush, I know you didn’t,” Alex murmured, “Now stop talking.  You need to rest.” He didn’t pull away though.  He stayed leaning right where he was and held John’s hand.  He didn’t care who was in the room or overheard them. It didn’t matter to him; John was okay.  Or, well, more okay than he had been.

In the end, George took pity on Alex and didn’t force him to go home just yet.  He did, however, force him to eat a sandwich from the cafe across the street.  It was too late for the hospital cafeteria to be open anyway.  Eating somehow became just a little easier now that he knew John wasn’t stuck in a coma.  The knots in his stomach didn’t go away, but they loosened slightly.  Enough to breathe again.  He spent another night by his bedside.  

* * *

 

“The car accident.”

John was awake again, and sounding much more alert than he’d been the night before.  Alex sat up, pushing the bag of ‘get well’ gifts that Eliza had brought by to the side.  

“The police said that another car sideswiped you guys,” he said, slowly.  He’d learned the details a day after the accident, and wasn’t exactly looking forward to having to tell John.  “The other driver hit your side and knocked the vehicle off the road.  You rolled.”

“Gabriel?”

“He’s fine.  Just some cuts and a broken arm.” Alex supplied, taking a breath, “He came in a few times while you were out.”  He knew what was coming next.  

“And Martha?” His voice was so small and hopeful, and Alex hated himself for having to tell him.  He swallowed, and when he did speak, his voice was no louder than a whisper.

“I’m sorry, John.”  There was a moment of silence.  John’s jaw clenched and his hand tightened around Alex’s.  Alex brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles, trying to give him something for comfort.  

“I knew,” he muttered, voice breathy and hoarse.  Alex frowned.

“What?”

“I already knew, I-I” John stammered for a moment and tried to turn his head, then remembered that he wouldn’t be able to see Alex if he tried.  “I saw...Jesus, I saw her before I passed out.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, and all the guilt that he’d been stamping down came right back.  

“For what?”

“If..If I’d come home like you wanted, you’d never have been in that car.  The whole thing likely wouldn’t have happened,” he rushed to explain, but the feeling didn’t go away.  There was no release of tension, no feelings of comfort.  It was just him apologizing for phenomenally screwing things up.  

“I don’t blame you,” John said nearly a full minute later, and that was it. His voice wasn’t kind or warm or emotional.  He sounded numb, like the true reality of the situation hadn’t yet hit.

Alex went quiet, waiting to see if John would add anything on the subject, but it didn’t surprise him when he didn’t.  His boyfriend sounded so numb and in disbelief.  Alex stood up and leaned over to carefully kiss John’s forehead.  It was far too soon.  There was nothing he could say to make this better.

“I love you,” Alex murmured, and he meant it.  He’d lost count of the amount of times that he’d whispered those exact words to John over the course of the past week.  He should really remember to say them more often when his boyfriend was awake and not half dead.

“I l-” John was cut off by the door opening.  Alex pulled away to see John’s doctor walking in.  She had been in and out a few times over the past week, but Alex had never said much to her.  He hadn’t said much to anyone, really.  

“The nurses said you were awake,” she smiled.  

“Dr. Ross?” he rasped. His eyes weren’t visible, but John’s mouth upturned into what might have been a pleased expression.  As pleased as he could be learning that his friend was dead.

“We missed you, Laurens,” the woman said, sounding warm.  Alex thought that he might’ve heard John mention her name from time to time at home before.  Then her demeanor shifted into something more professional.  “You took quite a tumble,” she said as she picked up his chart, “The accident left you with a lacerated kidney, some partial vocal cord paralysis - which I’m sure you’ve noticed by now - a broken femur, and a whole lot of bruising from the crash.”  

If John weren’t an intern, Alex supposed that the doctor would have gone slower, but John seemed to be keeping up just fine.  Unlike himself.

“Luckily, we were able to repair your kidney and the swelling seems to be improving well.  Now,” she sighed and paused.  Alex frowned at the apprehension on the woman’s face.  “Your CT scan showed severe tractional retinal detachment in both of your eyes.”

“Retinal detachment?” John muttered.  His mouth was no longer curved pleasantly, but flat in confusion and something else that Alex couldn’t quite identify.  “Isn’t that usually caused by underlying diseases?”  Dr. Ross nodded.

“Usually,” she agreed, “but yours seems to be caused from inflammation due to the accident.  It’s not unheard of to be caused by injury, and you suffered at least one big direct blow to the face and neck.”   

Alex felt breathless.  He prided himself on being an intelligent individual, and destines to be one of the best lawyers in New York, but all he really understood between their words was that something was wrong with John’s eyes.  

“So,” John started, taking a shallow breath, “what do we do?”  His fingers fidgeted awkwardly, and Alex reached forward to squeeze his hand.  

“Another surgery,” she informed, “I worry that your macula has become threatened with the detachment, so we need to go in and try to relieve the vitreoretinal traction.”

The two ignored Alex for the most part.  He disliked being left out of any conversation like this, but reminded himself that he had nothing remotely useful to offer here.  John’s hand was tense in his though, so he focused his energy into stroking across his knuckles.  

“When?” For as tense as he was, John’s voice came out remarkably steady besides the the croaky hoarseness of it.  

“As soon as we have an opening,” Dr. Ross stated, “Which is looking to be tomorrow morning.”

John tried to nod, but the pain in his neck abruptly stopped him.  He settled for a murmured, “Okay.”  

“Most of these surgeries are successful, John.  I would keep high hopes” she reassured him, and then glanced at the clock above the bed.  “I’ve got to finish my rounds,” she said kindly, and then she was gone, leaving Alex and John alone.  

“High hopes for what?” Alex spoke up.  He glanced at John’s face, then back down to his hand.  “What is the alternative?”

There was a pause, a moment of silence in the room.  Alex felt nauseous.  He didn’t deal with illness and injury very well, and all the doctors and talk of surgery made him anxious.  He briefly associated John’s situation to his dead mother, but forcefully shook the thought away.

 John wasn’t dying.  John was here and warm and very much alive.  John wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Blindness,” John murmured quietly, swallowing.  “Impaired vision of some sort, at the very least.”

“You don’t think-”

“She’s right,” he cut Alex off.  John knew his boyfriend’s tendencies of fretting himself into a right mess, and neither of them had the time or patience for that right now.  “Surgeries for retinal detachments are successful, for the most part.  I’ll be fine.”  Something in his voice was off, strained in a way that had nothing to do with his injured vocal cords.  He was stressed. Alex kissed his palm and nodded.  

“Alright,” he murmured and smiled, even though John couldn’t see him.  He made the effort to keep his tone light.  “If you say that you’ll be fine, then you’ll be fine.”  He paused, then, “What is a retinal detachment?”

Most people would probably shy away from talking about a health condition that immediately threatened them, but John wouldn’t and Alex knew that.  It was why he asked.  Well, he’d mostly asked because he had no idea what it was, but also because he knew that getting John hooked on a medical topic calmed him down quickly.  Even if talk of surgery and injury made Alex a little queasy, it was worth the joy and fixation in his boyfriend’s expression when he spoke about what interested him most.

And so John launched into a discussion over the causes, symptoms, and treatments for retinal detachments.  Well, it was more of a one-sided discussion.  He lost Alex a few times, but by the end of his rambling, he had a decent idea.  

“So, the accident caused blood from the..the..”  
“The choroid,” John supplied helpfully. His voice was rough and sore sounding.  Alex nodded.

“Right.  Blood from the choroid got under the retina and separated it from the other layers beneath it?”  John smiled, and Alex should not have felt as good as he did at the approval.  

“Pretty much. Sometimes it tears the layers, but I don’t know if that’s my case yet.”

“That’s disgusting,” Alex wrinkled his nose.  

“And that’s why I’m not going to be an ophthalmologist,” John chuckled and then coughed.  Alex sighed in exasperation and stood up to get him some water.

* * *

 

“How’s John, man?” Hercules asked from his spot on the the sofa.  John had forced Alex to leave the hospital for a bit, at least to shower.  Apparently, not showering for a week and giving the excuse that it was out of love and worry earned no boyfriend points.  But then John had also insisted that Alex spend some time with their friends as well, so here he was, sitting at Hercules and Lafayette’s apartment.  Lafayette was out, but any information that he gave to Herc would ultimately be passed along.

“He’s awake.  The..the surgery right after the accident went well,” Alex said.  

“Really?  When?” Hercules sat up straight, looking intently at Alex.  “Has he said anything yet?  How is he feeling?”

He felt a bit of guilt as he realized that he’d left his friends in the dark.  Eliza and Peggy had been able to come in a few times, and Herc and Lafayette had spent the first two nights with him, but Alex had failed to tell anyone about him waking up.

“Jesus, I’m sorry.  He woke up last night,” he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.  He was so fucking tired.  

“He’s our friend too, Alex.”  Alex tried not to hear the quiet hurt in Herc’s voice. He dug the heel of his hand harder into his right eye.  

“I know, I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I’m sorry.”  For once, he didn’t have an excuse for anything he did.  He didn’t have the words to justify himself for being a terrible human being, for letting any of this happen in the first place.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, and then again, like he was stuck on the word.  

“Hey, it’s alright.  I get it.  You’re his boyfriend,” Herc was quick to say when he realized the slope his friend was falling into, “If it were me and Gilbert, I’m sure I’d act the same.”

“Yeah..” Alex squeezed his eyes shut.

“When is the last time you slept, dude?”  

Alex sighed.  He was sick of everyone asking him that fucking question.  He was sick of everyone being worried about him.  He wasn’t the one laid up in the hospital, for Christ’s sake.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.  While Alex had always been rather shit about sleeping regularly, he really didn’t remember and didn’t have the energy to fake his confidence right now.  “I might’ve dozed for an hour or two last night, but I don’t really remember.”

Hercules, to his credit, did not yell at Alex like everyone else did when they learned that he wasn’t taking care of himself.  He didn’t panic or get angry.  Herc was a fucking godsend.

“I get it.  But you’re going to sleep,” the larger man said in a matter-of-fact tone.  “You can crash out here if you want.”  But Alex immediately shook his head.  

“I can’t.”

“Alex, if John is doing better, then you don’t have to-”

“There’s another surgery.  The other injuries are healing, but he has to have surgery on his eyes tomorrow morning,” he rushed out in one breath.

“...What?” Herc sounded confused at Alexander’s desperate rambling.  Alex took a breath.

“The doctor said that he had a..a..retinal detachment.  That’s why his eyes have been covered,” Alex rushed to explain.  His chest was tight and he could feel the stress knots littering his back.  “Don’t ask me to explain it, but it’s causing problems with his vision. I need to be there.”

There was a moment of quiet as Herc digested the information that Alex threw at him.  Both men had scores of questions on their minds, and yet all of them were left unanswered.

“Right..” Herc said slowly.  He looked at Alex, subtly taking note of the not-so-subtle bags and dark bruise-like circles under his eyes.  “Look, you still need to rest, especially if you want to be any help to John.  You’re strung out, Alex.”

“But-”

“It’s only eleven in the morning, and you said that his surgery is scheduled for tomorrow.  You can stand to sleep for a few hours.”  And with that, Hercules was physically manhandling him out of his chair and into their guest bedroom.  Alex made an undignified squawk as he was pushed, but somehow didn’t have the energy to fight like he normally would.  He was so _fucking_ tired.  He mostly just stumbled along and made weak, mumbled protests as Herc guided him toward the room.    
“I just don’t want John to think that...” he whined and trailed off.  John had said that he didn’t blame him for what happened, but the way he’d spoken it wasn’t much reassuring to Alex.  He’d sounded far too apathetic to be genuine.  The last thing he wanted was to let him down this way.

“I’m sure he would agree with me,” Herc cut him off, sounding more gentle.  “It’s just a few hours, Alex.  I’ll wake you up before three, alright?”  Even that long made Alex feel anxious, but he nodded anyway.  

After Herc left, Alex reluctantly crawled into the bed.  The guest room wasn’t so much a guest room as it was Lafayette’s storage space.  Hercules and Lafayette had gotten the apartment as roommates, but that ship had sailed a long time ago.   The room was Lafayette’s old bedroom before he moved to Herc’s, but Alex didn’t care.  It was certainly more comfortable than the plastic chair by John’s hospital bed.  

Alex tried to push away the guilt as he fell asleep within two minutes of lying down.  He didn’t even pull the comforter over himself.

* * *

 

Hercules woke him up much closer to four thirty, but Alex didn't have it in him to be angry about it.  “Has anyone ever told you that you're an incredibly patient person?” he’d groggily asked on his way out the door, but was gone before he ever received an answer.  Half an hour later, he was stepping back into John hospital room.  Even though he’d had a week to get used to it, the smell of antiseptic made his nose burn and his throat tighten.

“Alex?  That you?” John half confused voice met him.  He really needed to remember to announce his presence.  Though with any luck, he wouldn't have to after the surgery.

“Yeah, I’m here, “ he murmured, coming down to sit in his usual spot beside the bed.  His hand found John’s, and he squeezed his fingers comfortingly.  

“I was wondering where you were, “ John said, then paused, “I mean, I don't really know what time it is, but Gabriel already came by and left, so I know it’s been awhile.”  If the situation weren't so severe, if it were just temporary, it would be almost cute how John had to guess at things like this.  But, of course, it wasn't.  It wasn't cute, because John might never see again.  

“Herc forced me to sleep,” he filled him in, “It's almost five now. “  John’s lips downturned just slightly.  

“You haven't been sleeping? “ he asked, though it didn't sound as much a question as it did a statement.  Alex didn’t answer - he didn’t need to.  John may have been unconscious himself for the majority of his hospital stay so far, but he knew how his boyfriend functioned.  “Alex..”

“I tried,” Alex mumbled meekly, raking a hand through his hair.  It was loose from his bun and messy, but at least the dark strands were clean now.  

“Did you even go home at all while I was in a coma?” John sighed.  

“Not really,” Alex admitted, biting his lip, “I went back a few times.”  They both knew that that only meant that Alex had gone back long enough to throw some clothes into a bag and feed John’s turtle.  They both knew the nights had been spent with him curled up in hospital grade chair.  

At John’s silence, Alex shifted uncomfortably.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.  

“Why do you keep saying that?” John muttered, his tone turning sharp despite the rough breaks in his voice.  Alex spluttered for a moment, trying to find an answer that made sense.  

“Because I _am_.  Sorry, I mean,” he finally said lamely, “For everything.  You shouldn’t be in here.”

Quiet settled in the room when neither of them said anything.  Alex wasn’t accustomed to feeling guilt, not like this, and it was uncomfortable.  He couldn’t stop the idea that he should have done something.  

“I am angry with you,” John finally said, his tone quiet and cold. There is was, then.  The truth. The damage to his vocal cords only made him sound even more harsh.  Alex stiffened at and his breath got caught halfway in his throat, but did not dare interrupt him.  “I’m angry at you for not listening to me and just coming home.  I’m angry that you feel the need to leave for a week at a time.  I’m pissed that I never get to see you.  If you’d have just left work at a normal fucking time, then the accident wouldn’t have even happened.  We could’ve had dinner.  I could have taken you on a date.  My best friend wouldn’t be-” he cut himself short with a heavy breath.  Even he wouldn’t throw that one at Alex, no matter how angry he was.

“I-” Alex tried to say something, but there were no words.  His eyes were wide, and his mouth snapped shut.  He felt himself shrinking back in the chair.  He’d known this would happen, but seeing John this upset shot a feeling of ice in his stomach that no amount of preparation could account for.

“However,” John sighed, and with it, the anger in his voice ebbed.  Now he just sounded tired. “I realize that I’m being irrational.  I know that.”

“No, you’re not,” Alex weakly muttered.

“Yes,” he said before Alex could continue.  John’s hands, which had been curled into fists, dropped lax against the bedsheets.  “Objectively, I know that what happened wasn’t your fault.  You can’t stop a car accident from happening, Alex. But-” his breath shook, “I mean, what the hell?  One of my friends is dead now.”  His expression(or, what could be seen of his expression) broke and his voice cracked on the last word in a way that had nothing to do with his damaged vocal cords.  “Fuck, Martha’s _dead._ How does that just..happen?”  

Alex would forever be amazed at how rational John could manage to be.  Where he often lost his logic in his own emotions, John could somehow stop himself from going over that edge.  How?  He slowly reached forward and slipped his hand around his boyfriend’s again.  To his utter relief, John squeezed back.  

“I don’t know,” he whispered, and then the silence stretched over them for the umpteenth time.  This wasn’t the end of it, he knew.  The anger would come out again and again, along with the grief and sadness, and they would just have to deal with it.  Right now, however, the only thing that could be done was to focus on healing.  

“Alex, come here.”

“What?”

“Just- come here, please,” John rasped out in desperation, “On the bed.  I don’t give a fuck what the nurses say about it.”

“Alright, alright, just...okay,” Alex muttered to himself as he stood up.  He’d fought the urge to crawl into bed with his boyfriend the entire time he’d been hospitalized, but the fear of hurting him stopped him.  John scooted over the best he could, and Alex carefully slid into the bed next to him.  He laid on top of the blanket and was mindful of the IV trailing from the bed.

John’s hands blindly reached for him, first hitting his chest and then patting around until he found the curve of his shoulders.  Alex let him explore and pushed back the sudden urge to just peel back the bandage from his face, as if that would magically allow him to see.  

It took few awkward minutes of coordinating - John’s hand flailed as he tried to map out where exactly Alex was, and Alex had to shift a few times because his hand was over a tender spot or bruise.  He handled him carefully, as if one single bad touch would break him. That is, until John hissed at him to quit acting so careful, that he wasn’t going to fall apart.  But when he felt John’s head finally come to rest on his chest and their arms intertwined, both men inhaled deeply.  This was comfortable.  This felt like home.  

“I missed you,” John breathed, and Alex gave a chuckle that sounded a lot like a sob.

“I missed you too, John,” he said in a choked whisper.

They stayed like that for the remainder of the day.  The two didn’t really talk much, but the silence wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been before.  Alex watched John’s breathing and John listened to Alex’s heartbeat.  When nightfall came, nobody asked Alex to move, so he didn’t.  Perhaps they were afraid that the strung out man who had spent every night waiting in this hospital room would finally snap.  In fact, John clutched him hard enough that the thought of moving didn’t even cross his mind.

John fell asleep quickly and Alex stayed up, just watching him.  Just making sure that he was breathing and okay and _there_.  But somewhere in the early morning, he also dozed off in the best sleep he’d had since this whole ordeal had started.  Alex’s sleep was dreamless, which was probably for the best.  If he did, his dreams would likely be filled with images of a dying John, and he couldn’t handle that right now.  

It wasn’t until the morning that Alex was shaken awake by a nurse.  Instead of annoyance at finding another person in her patient’s bed, the woman simple gave him a tight smile.  She must know John, then.  The ones who knew him were kind to Alex, whereas the ones who didn’t tended to get fed up with him quicker.  He didn’t blame them.  He’d probably get fed up too.

“I’m afraid he has to be in surgery soon,” she murmured, and he nodded with a resigned understanding.  Alex shifted and carefully sat up, but John’s arms, as bruised and scraped up as they were, clung to him.  

“Baby, I’ve got to get up,” he whispered to his boyfriend.  Although he wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to whisper.  “And so do you.”  A low groan came from John, but he woke up nonetheless.

“I’m working to become the doctor who performs surgeries.  I don’t like being the one performed on,” he whined, and they both stilled for a moment.  The realization hit, not for the first time, that if his sight was not recovered, John would never get to be that surgeon.  

Alex was the first to shake the feeling of ice away.

“You’re going to do wonderful.” He kissed his temple and finally slid from the bed.

“I’m going to be unconscious,” John muttered, but a small smile flitted across his face. Neither man would admit it, but they were both nervous.  Alex stood by and watched as John was prepared for the operation room.  

He felt a little woozy. This was all moving terribly fast.  

“Wait!” Right as he was about to be wheeled from the room, John stuck out a hand, waving it around in the air.  “Alex?”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Alex said and stepped forward.  He bent down and rested his forehead against John’s for a moment.  “What is it?”

“I love you,” John breathed, “I never got to say it yesterday.”  Alex smiled and tried not to cry.

“I love you too.”

He stood back and watched as John was wheeled away.  Soon, the only sound in the room was his own ragged breathing.  Alex was sure that he was drowning in the hurricane that destroyed his home all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what I'm not? A doctor. But nonetheless, feel free to let me know what you thought.


	4. Stand By Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Baby, listen to me. We will adjust,” Alex repeated at the obvious discomfort, “One thing at a time.” John stilled, bowing his head and finally just resting his cheek against Alexander’s shoulder. There was too much to worry about right now, so maybe he could just give into Alex this one time. He nodded.
> 
> “One thing at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, still not a doctor. Sorry.

The rest of John’s recovery in the hospital went much the same as the first half, except that he was awake for far more of it.  The second surgery went as well as could be expected, though they wouldn’t know how much vision John had truly retained until after the healing period, so his face was still bandaged.  

The rest of John’s body was healing well.  He was still in pain, but the bruises were slowly turning from a dark purple to a sickly green.  He gained mobility in his limbs(minus the broken right femur).  Alex started spending the nights in the hospital bed with him, holding John against his body.  Some nights they both slept, some John slept and Alex stayed wide awake.  Some days John was in a good mood, and some days he screamed at Alexander for the death of Martha.  Everyday, Alex would take what he could get.  

No matter the type of day it was, John always,  _ always _ insisted that his sight would come back just fine.  That this would not be the end of his vision.  Alex always agreed.  He also started going back to the firm to work a few days out of the week for the meetings that he really did need to be present for.  Beyond that, however, he worked from the hospital room, on his laptop.  Laf and Herc came by for a few days, Eliza and Maria on others.  Peggy and Angelica had stopped by once.  

They continued that way until Dr. Ross informed them that it was safe to remove John’s bandages for good.

So here it was.  Today was the day.  Today was the day that the bandages would come off of John’s face and reveal whether the surgery worked.  They were both antsy, though Alexander, contrary to his usual transparency, did make an attempt to reign in his own anxiety.  It would do no good to have John hear him get upset. 

“God, I can’t wait have this shit taken off my face,” John grumbled.  Alex glanced up from his place in the chair next to his bed, the same place he’d been in for the past few weeks. He was balancing his laptop on his knees and was typing up a rebuttal for Washington.  He was lucky that Washington had allowed him to do his work outside of the firm, and that his professors posted their lectures online.  “I want to see you,” he went on.  Alex couldn’t help but smile at that, despite the heavy weight of the possibility of permanent injury.  He set his laptop down in the empty chair next to him and leaned forward.

“I know,” he murmured, grasping John’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “I miss you too.”  They had barely separated in the time spent after the accident, other than when John went into surgery and when Lafayette forced Alex to go home to shower and occasionally eat.  However, it felt like it had been a lifetime since they’d last seen each other.  

“The first thing we’re doing when I get out of here is getting real food,” John said in distaste, “and you have to eat to.  I can’t even see you and I know you’re not eating enough.”

Alex laughed and tried to keep the jagged edge of anxiety out of his voice.  Tried to keep the hand holding Lauren’s relaxed so that the other man would not take note of how scared he really was.  But John was John - he didn’t need to see to know how Alex was feeling.  

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Alex tried to deflect.  He heard John sigh.  The stark white bandages over his eyes did nothing to hide his annoyed expression.  His mouth downturned slightly, like Alex’s words saddened him more than anything.  

“Stop fretting.  I know you, I know when you’re worrying.  I’m going to be fine.” Alex swallowed and nodded, then remembered that John couldn’t see him.

“Right.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” John smiled.  How on Earth could this man face the idea of going blind and still turn around to comfort Alexander?  He pressed his forehead against John’s palm, just taking the moment to breathe properly.  It felt like he hadn’t breathed properly in a long time.  John’s hand moved to cup his cheek, then slid up to brush Alex’s hair back from his face. 

“So, tell me about the argument you and Jefferson got into yesterday?”  Alex smiled gratefully, sat back up in his chair, and launched into the full details of the fight that he’d nearly gotten physically violent in.  When he got to the part about Washington having to break them up, John laughed.  He had a beautiful laugh.

They were both ignoring the reality of the situation while they still could.  It was easier that way.  

* * *

 

Lafayette made Alex go home again to eat lunch, despite the writer’s insistence that he had to be at the hospital.  That today, the bandages were coming off.  That John needed his moral support and he could just eat something from the hospital cafeteria.  But John was quick to agree with Lafayette and Alex stood no chance, much to his own fury.  

So there he was, seated at the kitchen island in he and John’s shared apartment.  Lafayette was at the stove, attending to what looked like omelettes.  Alex wouldn’t eat anything heavier than that, not with the nerves still twisting in his stomach.  At least his friend understood that.  

“Eat, mon ami,” Lafayette ordered as a plate was set down in front of Alex.  When the man didn’t move, he sighed.  “You look like you’re nearing a fainting spell.  Eat.”  Alex slowly cut off a chunk of the eggs and brought it to his mouth.  It tasted good, as Lafayette’s cooking always did, but swallowing took effort and the bite settled like lead in his stomach.  

Laf was apparently satisfied, because then he sat down across from him and starting to eat with much less hesitance.  Several minutes passed.  

“What are we going to do if John ends up blind?”

The question was random, but it had been on the forefront of Alex’s mind and just slipped out.  He stared down at his plate, at the green flecks of chive that garnished the meal.  Lafayette was quiet a moment.

“Live, love..laugh?” he suggested.

“Don’t start giving me Facebook quotes,” Alex snapped, not in the mood for any attempts at lightheartedness.  His friend sighed again.  

“Alexander, we will deal with it,” Lafayette said, “I thought you, of anyone, would stay committed regardless of any injuries that may happen to your partner.”  

There was a beat of silence as he realized the implications of Laf’s words.  

“Are you suggesting that I’d  _ leave _ him over this?” Alex was horrified at the idea, and even more horrified that his friend would think that of him.  “Of course not!” he spat, feeling his tension and anxiety come out as anger. Lafayette’s face remained frustratingly patient.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then do explain.”

“I mean,” Alex took a breath, pushing his plate a few inches away. “This will..change things.  We both know that becoming a cardio surgeon is his dream.”  He stared down at the table again.  “I don’t want this to break him, or us,” he whispered.  His face had gone pale as he revealed his fear. He just wanted to delve into his work and forget all of this.  His work was something he could control and shape however he saw fit - this was very much the opposite. But he couldn’t do that to John.

“Mon ami, of course things will be changed.  But do not forget, you come from a world of change.  You can handle it.”  

“Yeah?”

“No matter what, life will be the same,” he supplied.  Alex finally cracked a smile.

“Life will go on.” 

“What?”

“No matter what, life will go on.’  That’s the saying. Not ‘life will be the same,” Alex chuckled.

“Now who’s reading Facebook quotes?”

“Shut up.”

* * *

 

He returned to the hospital a few hours later in a much better mood, which was good.  This would be nerve wracking for John and he wanted to be relatively clear headed through it himself.  The doctor was in the room when Alex entered.  

“There you are,” John muttered, but it was lighthearted, “I wouldn’t let her start without you.”  Alex saw the anxiety in his features, despite the faked cheerfulness.  He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, reaching out to take his lover’s hand.  

“I was always coming back,” he reassured, then glanced up as the doctor was getting ready to start.  This was moving quickly.  He squeezed John’s hand.  “Ready?”

“I’m ready.”  The doctor nodded and, layer by layer, medical tape was lifted and gauze was removed. 

Alex was well versed when it came to dealing with his loved ones and the hospital, but nothing could have prepared him for the reveal. 

John’s eyes weren’t dulled and cloudy like Alex imagined them to be.  Dr. Ross had explained that because there were no cataracts, then the color of his irises wouldn’t be clear signs either way.  

For a moment, Alex felt hope.  

And then it all came crashing down.  

John eyes were wide as he glanced around, but his body language turned panicked.  He entire demeanor looked off-balanced even though he was still sitting in bed.  

“..Alex?”  A pause, “Alex, I..where are you?”  John’s voice was so, so quiet and frail and not at all like the strong individual that Alexander had known.  Such a basic function had been stripped away and left him cowering back.  It made Alex’s chest ache. 

The hours and hours of reassuring and hoping had come to nothing.

John was blind.  

He reached forward to grasp John’s wrists before he could continue his instinctive task of clawing at his eyes, as if that would somehow bring his sight back.  Gone was the man who was totally calm and reassuring about his injuries.  “Alex?”

“I haven’t moved.  I’m right here next to you,” Alex murmured from his spot sitting on the edge of the bed, and even though his boyfriend’s eyes were unfocused with the loss of sight, he saw complete and utter heartbreak in them.  It was predictable, really, that John would have such a hard time - anyone who lost such an established foundation as sight had to adjust.  But still, seeing the pain in his closest friend and lover hurt Alex.  

He leaned forward to press a kiss to John’s forehead, and felt the other man shudder beneath his touch.  At first, he worried that he’d overstepped with physical contact too soon, that John wouldn’t be able to handle it just yet, but then a pair of arms were curling around his waist with a desperate energy to them.  

Dr. Ross said something about giving them privacy and left the room, but she could have been speaking in another language for all Alexander cared.  He barely heard her.  What mattered was John.  

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, but his own voice sounded weak even to him.  The arms only tightened around him.  He stroked back John’s frizzy hair that he hadn’t been able to pull back for him in weeks, and Alex fought to keep his own emotions in check.  This wasn’t about him, he wasn’t the one who had just lost his eyesight.  “I’ve got you”

But God, those eyes, those beautiful,  _ functional _ eyes were gone.  John would never get to see him again.  He’d never get to see Lafayette either, or Hercules, or Eliza, or Angelica, or even fucking Jefferson.  He’d never get to be the surgeon that he yearned for and had worked hard for.  

Alex felt his own eyes stinging with tears, but he blinked them away.  He supposed it wouldn’t matter now, it wasn’t like John could see him crying(that hurt to think about too), but he still wouldn’t let any tears fall.  It didn’t feel right.  Besides, John’s shoulders were starting to shake and Alex would be damned if he was going to sit here and wallow in his own self pity while his boyfriend’s life was being destroyed.  

Alex slid his arms around John’s shoulders, holding him just as tight and with just as much desperation as the other man was.  There was a pressure against his chest as John buried his face there.  Surely that would hurt, given that his face was still bruised injured, but Alex knew better than to try to stop him.  He simply rested a hand at the back of John’s head and held him steady as the tears came.  And God, they came.  John had never been one to be reduced to such animalistic reactions as crying, but he  _ broke _ in Alexander’s arms.  A haggard, cut off sob forced its way from his throat, and then another, and then another, until he was clinging to the other man with such a furiosity that made it difficult for Alex to breathe.  He didn’t try to stop him though, nor did he shush him or attempt to quieten him.  John deserved to cry, he deserved to react in whatever way he needed to without being made to feel like he was wrong.  

Alex tucked John’s head under his chin and rocked him, a gentle sway from side to side.  An attempt to give him some semblance of comfort.  The tears never ceased, but the gut wrenching sobs did slow down.  The tension in John’s frame dissipated, but what replaced it was no better.  John slumped against Alexander in exhaustion and defeat; there was no relief present.  

“John..” Alex whispered, having never seen such a demeanor in him before, “John, we’re going...you’re going to be okay.”  All he received in response was a humorless scoff, which worried him more.  “John, look-” he cut himself off.   _ John, look at me _ .  Except he couldn’t, could he?  John couldn’t fucking look at him.  

“I’m never going to be okay,” the other man finally muttered into his chest, “I’m never going to be fucking okay, Alex.  I..I can’t see. What’s the point of me, then?”   Alex removed his arms from around him to bring his hands on either side of John’s face. 

“Sweetheart, an ailment does not take away your worth,” he said sternly, needing John to listen to him.  Alex didn’t use terms of endearment very often, whereas John had called him by all sorts of nicknames throughout their entire relationship.  However, the name slipped past Alexander’s lips now without even his knowing.  Lafayette’s guidance came to mind. “You will heal and we will adjust, okay?”

John fidgeted in his arms, his breath coming out in harsh pants, and Alex knew this reaction all too well. 

“Baby, listen to me.  We will  _ adjust _ ,” Alex repeated at the obvious discomfort, “One thing at a time.”  John stilled, bowing his head and finally just resting his cheek against Alexander’s shoulder.  There was too much to worry about right now, so maybe he could just give into Alex this one time.  He nodded.

“One thing at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it for this story, but I've got another coming in for this series that should be up right about now!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be medical heavy. I do not claim to have a degree in the medical field, I just enjoy researching things. So, if anyone else does actually know more about these things than I do, please let me know if you see something seriously wrong or improbable. Thank you!


End file.
